


Well, that’s a nasty gash

by slof



Series: Osayachi Drabbles [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blood and Injury, Drabble, F/M, Osamu dumb, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slof/pseuds/slof
Summary: TW// Blood and injury !!Osamu has a little slip up in the kitchen
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Yachi Hitoka
Series: Osayachi Drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874737
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Well, that’s a nasty gash

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justwritingforfun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwritingforfun/gifts).



> RORBRBYBY YN SORRYE THIS IS BAD

Osamu stood in the kitchen, staring down at the cookbook laid out on the counter. It was a recipe he hadn’t done before, something he wasn’t too confident about doing, so he stared at the page for what seems like hours, eyes scanning it over and over again. His fingers wrapped around the kitchen knife sitting on the counter next to him, nervously loosening and unloosening his grip.

There was a list of ingredients he needed to find, so Osamu read them all, mumbling them under his breath before he moved to the fridge to find them. He repeated the list quietly to himself, loading the foods on his arms.

“Butter is right there,” a voice said behind him, and a small hand reached over his shoulder and pointed into the fridge. He followed to where it was pointing, spotting the large tub of butter on the top shelf.

“Thanks,” Osamu said.

“Let me grab it,” Hitoka said. “You’re going to drop everything.”

Osamu looked down to the bunch of items in his arms. “Oh, guess yer right.” Hitoka stepped to the side to let Osamu through, and he moved to the counter, unloading his arms carefully one by one onto the surface. The blonde closed the fridge, stepping to stand next to Osamu. She set down the butter before wrapping her arms around Osamu, burying her face into his shoulder blade. 

“Why are you cooking so late?” Hitoka mumbled, and she turned her head, moving to press her cheek against his back instead to look at the clock on the stove. “It’s eleven.”

“Just wanna try somethin’ new,” Osamu muttered as he organized the ingredients in front of him. 

“Well, don’t take too long.”

“I don’t wanna undercook it.”

Hitoka laughed. “Be as quick as you possibly can.” Osamu turned around, Hitoka’s arms slipping off from around him. He faced her, grabbing ahold of her cheeks and tilting them to look at him. Hitoka looked tired a bit, her eyelids had a heavy appeal to them, her lips pouted out a but that was probably because she wanted Osamu to come to bed.

“I’ll try,” Osamu said, leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers. Hitoka relaxed into the kiss as she always did, a sigh coming from her and a smile against his lips. He rubbed his thumbs on her cheeks, touching his forehead against hers. “Go to bed. I’ll be there soon.”

“‘Soon’ is gonna be one kitchen fire later.”

“That was  _ three years ago. _ ”

“And I will never forget it.” Hitoka gave Osamu one last quick kiss before disappearing from the kitchen. 

Right when Hitoka left to the bedroom, Osamu got to work in the kitchen. He pulled a bowl from the cabinet and started following the instructions. 

Osamu worked slow but quick at the same time. Cracking the eggs in was always done swiftly, but when he went to grab the eggs, he moved slow, looking back at the instructions to make sure he needed another one.

He mixed in the milk, some sugar that the recipe also called for, the butter Hitoka grabbed for him. Mixing it was easy, his wrist used to having to beat together ingredients.

Time came to cut up some meat for the side which Osamu moved to grab from the fridge (he wanted to wait until last second to pull it from the cold).

Osamu laid the meat on the counter, pushing into it to make sure it was still good (of course it was, he had just bought it, but as a chef, Osamu always wanted to make sure). 

He went straight to cutting, using the knife in the professional way his father taught him. Osamu started thinking back to when he was a kid and he’d beg his father to help him cook. There was always Atsumu calling him dumb and asking him to play volleyball with him, and he’d turn him down  _ (‘Go ‘way, Tsumu. I don’t care fer ya.’). _

“Ah!” Osamu looked down at his hand. “Well,” he said to say as he stared down. Osamu watched as the blood trickled down his hand, dripping onto the cutting board. God, he could see bone. Osamu could  see the bone. “That’s a nasty gash,” he mumbled. 

Watching the blood, Osamu stared, and he started to feel himself get light headed. He was never good at the sight of injuries, he had learned that in middle school when Atsumu fell in the side walk, Osamu laughed at him, caught sight of his bloody knees and passed out. 

That was about to happen again. 

He was feeling woozy, and Osamu put his other hand to his forehead. His legs were starting to get weak, and he used his palm against the counter to keep himself up.

“Hito—“ 

It didn’t last long, Osamu’s arm collapsed under him and he fell to the floor, blacking out.

* * *

“Osamu? Hey?” Hitoka held the cold washcloth on the twin’s forehead, her other hand slowly running her fingers through his hair. “Are you alright?” She asked one a quiet voice.

She had gotten quite a scare when she heard a thud from the kitchen. Obviously, being the paranoid Miya Hitoka she was, she left bed to check it out.

When she walked in, Hitoka almost passed out herself at first which was kind of ironic (and bad) given the situation. 

Osamu was on the floor, slumped against the side of the cabinet passed out as he bled from a pretty good cut from his hand. That was the first thing Hitoka focused on. She grabbed the first AID kit she kept close by and patched up his hand, then she tried to get him awake. 

Hitoka smushed his cheeks together, called out to him, slapped his chest a few times. She knew she wasn’t able to get him into bed by herself (she considered calling Atsumu to help) so she just sat on the kitchen floor with a cold washcloth, placed it on his forehead with his head resting in her lap and waited for Osamu to wake up.

It didn’t take long, Osamu was only passed out a few minutes, and Hitoka stared down at him with a smile when he regained consciousness. 

“Wha happened?” Osamu asked, his voice was soft, tired sounding.

“I think something to do with your ‘faint at the sight of blood’ issue.”

Osamu lifted his hand in front of his face, looking at the wrapped palm. The medical tape was so white it gave him double vision for a quick second.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “Shit.”

Hitoka giggled, and she brushed back Osamu’s bangs from his face. “How are you feeling?”

“Uh, light? Tired? Hungry?”

“Do you think you can help me help you get to bed?”

“But the food.”

“I’ll put it away, Osamu.”

Osamu reached up with his uninjured hand and ran the back of it against her cheek. “Yer really pretty, ya know that?”

“Osamu.”

“Yeah, think I can,” he finally answered with a chuckle, and he began to sit up. 

Hitoka held a hand to his back, helping him sit up and get to his feet. He wobbled a little, but Hitoka held onto his arm and lightly shoved him in the direction of the bedroom. She stopped him at the side of the bed and pulled the strings of his apron, tugging it off him and tossing it in the laundry bin.

“Get into bed, you big lug,” she said softly as she helped him lie down.

“Are ya comin’?” He mumbled, already drifting back off to sleep. Hitoka laughed, and she tugged the covers over him.

“After I clean the kitchen. Just get some sleep.”

“M love you.”

Hitoka smiled. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


End file.
